|
|
It is so difficult with this journal, these past three days... not sounding like a broken record. Stuck in the same groove, repeating the same rhythm... same lyrics... same motion. Jumping back to the same imperfection, ad infinitum. Expecting some little burst of wind, some bump to reset the momentum. Three days, thirty-six hours, five hundred miles. An endless loop. Like the last band on the vinyl, spiralling quickly into the center, next to the label. Then, around... around... around.... One more long, late-night trip. It's not a good time, all the time, now is it?
Dammitall, I am so thirsty!!! |
|
|
